“I need you. I can’t take it anymore.” Flash back five years and these words may have had a sexier context. But here, now, they’re a cry for help. I pull myself from sleep and smile. (I’ve had 2 hours of sleep. Why am I smiling??) “I’ve got this,” I tell him. I’ve got this… It’s automatic: pick the wailing baby up, kiss...
Growth spurts can bite me right on the ass
Alternate post title: Nugget’s hourly hunger wail is absolutely the cutest nails-on-chalkboard thing he does Alternate alternate post title: BOOB DINER!!!
Two hours without the kid. Two hours of just my husband. It rained on us. We got soaked and chilled. The frozen yogurt tasted like water. I started yawning at 8 pm. We ended the night in the baby section at Target. It was totally, totally awesome. I only texted my parents to check up on our Nugget once.
I don’t like to throw around the word ‘butthead’ too often. If you call...– LESLIE, Parks And Recreation (via inothernews)
Things I never thought I'd do before having a kid
Touch another person’s boogers. Go 3 hours without realizing my pants are on backwards. (Not inside out. Backwards.) Stay up all night listening to another person’s breathing. Pull my boob out in public. Oh no wait. That one I’ve done…
Favorite motherhood moment
When I’m holding my son in my arms and we’re gazing into each other’s eyes and I’m singing him a quiet little lullaby and he just LETS ONE RIP.
I cured my baby’s eye infection with a drop of breast milk and now I feel like a total BADASS!! My boobs are my superpower. Anyone else have any inflammation or weird rash they need me to clear up? My friggin jugs are on it!
There’s a fine line between mothering and smothering. Ironically, it was my mother who pointed that out to me. Commencing operation CHILL THE FUCK OUT NOT EVERY SOUND THE CHILD MAKES MEANS HE’S COMING DOWN WITH BUBONIC PLAGUE now.
yummycupcakes: Hey Kids! It’s that time of year again, Secretish Santa! Remember last year when we all made something awesome for one of our tumblr friends and sent it to them for the holidays? Let’s do that again. Here’s how it works: If you want to participate, send me your name and address to my askbox. Your name and address will be kept confidential, only your Secretish Santa will know....
I didn’t have the birth I wanted. I wanted to be present and aware. Instead I was looped out on glorious pain meds and running on 72 hours without sleep. It took me less than 20 minutes to push him out because I wanted it to be over so badly. The nurse kept telling me not to push because we had to wait for the doctor. I ignored her, and in the end a substitute doctor had to come flying...
…my loving you is a chink in the armour of telling the world to go to hell...– Ernest Hemingway
Invertebrate Art Forms Teaching Idea →
Vote for my brilliant baby brother! My brother has applied for a teaching grant. If you have some spare time and are so inclined, please vote for his proposal. It’s neat and marries art and science and it’s the coolest thing since sliced FUCKING bread. (…I really miss cursing…)
I have no idea what I'm doing
And 90% of the time that’s okay. My Nugg and I hang out and get to know each other. I sing to him and feed him and tend to him. My heart fills with love for the snuffling little guy. And we’re good. But there’s that 10% of the time where I lose my foothold and I am filled with grief. I have no idea where it comes from. I mourn the little baby that I carried inside of me. ...
In the yay column - I've only cried once today
In the boo column - it was because I dropped my son. I DROPPED. MY FRIGGIN’. SON. He didn’t fall far, just into his bassinet. And he was totally cool about it, just let out a little cry of outrage before settling back to sleep. But still. Sonofa…come on! Talk about feeling like a complete failure. One of these days I will make it a whole 24 hours without crying.
Pee in my hair! THERE IS PEE IN MY HAIR!
I’m kidding. I mean yeah there’s baby pee in my hair but I don’t really give a rat’s ass right now.
HOLY 30 HOURS OF LABOR
The midwife sent me home because I wasn’t progressing beyond 2.5 cm. So she sent me home to sleep, since I haven’t slept in 30 hours. Except, I haven’t slept in 30 hours because I’m having contractions that feel like I’m being split in two. “Those aren’t the kind of contractions we’re looking for,” she tells me. Shit. I’m not...